


No Gods

by sedirktive (orphan_account)



Series: Mixed Metaphors, an Exploration of "Body Language" [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Bottoming from the Top, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, M/M, Mild Body Worship, Possessive Behavior, Post-Sburb, They're actual immortal beings btw., i.e. Some Strangling, mild breathplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-20
Updated: 2015-07-20
Packaged: 2018-04-10 07:58:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4383674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/sedirktive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You kiss him back, enter the cycle of give and take, and just like that, the shroud of immortality falls at last.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Gods

You pay homage to even the smallest crevices of his body – no single fold of flesh or faintly discolored blemish is spared from the unending silent praise of your lips on him.

Your bedroom is a place of worship and beauty.

Your hand traces down his skin as you sit back on his stomach, feeling his dick pressed against you. He’s everything good and beautiful in this world, and you inform him of this. He trembles beneath your gaze; it’s almost like his body is murmuring verses to you, beseeching your forgiveness, begging for mercy, have mercy, John, please.

He wants to touch you so bad. It’s written across the scriptures of his face. He’s a little tied up right now though, so there is a certain amount of begging involved on his part in the end.

Dave tries to move the Earth with his words.

Unfortunately for him, you are spiteful and simply smile down at your gorgeous boy.

The bed creaks slightly as you shift your weight forward and kiss the bound fingers suspended above his head. A small whimper aside, he stays quiet for you.

Good.

You reward him by shifting your hips, arcing back against him with a generous, fluid roll of your body and he rewards you in turn with a sound only fitting for an angel.

Every scar painting the arch of his body flexes, paling in the soft light of your room, as he tries to fight his bonds and get to you. You are in control though, and you watch, fascinated, as the twisting body beneath you bends and turns.

Gospel(praise)(pleading) springs from his lips as you sink down onto him. You take him in with slow ease and grace, eyes affixed on his as he attempts to hold your gaze through the light and gauzy layers of desire. It’s cute really, how hard he tries.

There is no cooldown period for you, and your hips begin to rise and fall at a pace which you see fit. The speed at which you do so (not punishing, but rough), burns you both, and you can feel the heat rise through his body with every drop of your body.

“God,” he pants, face raised to the heavens and eyes wide like he is seeing far, far beyond you. It makes you angry. The only name he’s allowed to say is yours because you’re the only thing he has left. There are no gods now, just a handful of kids in an otherwise empty pavilion overseeing a world you destroyed in a fiery rain and rebuilt from the ground up.

(You want him for all that he is, and he is all for that which you want him. He is everything that you have, and everything that is.)

Angrily and without hesitating, you reach out and close your hands around his throat, squeezing. You know that if it’s too much, you’ll know, he’ll tell you, you’ll stop. That is how this ritual works.

 _Hedonistic_ , Rose’s voice whispers in the back of your mind.

“ _John_ ,” Dave’s voice calls you back to the white gossamer and silk sheets. The way he says your name gives you strength, gives you power, and you take it from him as easily as you’d take his hand any other day. You generously afford to return some of that to him, loosening the cross of your thumbs over his windpipe as you kiss him.

He drinks it from you greedily, mouth on yours like that of a parched man at a desert spring. You kiss him back, enter the cycle of give and take, and just like that, the shroud of immortality falls at last.

You’re human. You’re human. We’re human. Your bodies sing as the rhythmic slap of skin is overtaken by the two of you whispering sweet everythings to each other, and you beg each other for release.

It’s hot hot hot _hothot_ and it only takes a few strokes of your own hand and Dave’s well-timed orgasm to light fire to your bones. You bend forwards and place your forehead directly on Dave’s chest, the altar of your affections, as something more (or perhaps less) than you both blinds you for a blissful moment.

When you are finished, you untie him. He whines and calls you an asshole, because his arms are sore and his skin’s gonna bruise like a bitch. You tell him to shut up, shitlord, and kiss the raw red of his wrists before settling against him. Sleep (a byproduct of habit alone) settles as he kisses your forehead.

**Author's Note:**

> dont (Do Not!!!) actually squeeze someone's windpipe during sex. that's actually super dangerous and can kill someone or lead to serious damage! it's only included here because they're gods and can pull shit like that.


End file.
